


Strong At The Broken Places

by Dutch



Category: Homestuck
Genre: "You just dont talk about it", 1940s AU, Consensual Incest, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Historical AU, M/M, Sibling Incest, World War 2, You could argue theres some grooming themes but consensually, inspired by In Our Time, not bad those arent my fave themes, tagged for some mild bitterness and a few angsty feels but really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 21:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18126731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dutch/pseuds/Dutch
Summary: In 1944, Dave's brother returns from war. He's a little messed up but mostly okay, except he has a lot of trouble sleeping.Jammed on the stridercest server.





	Strong At The Broken Places

Crutches were a unique sound on wood floorboards. The regular clunk-clunk of footsteps were delayed with a clunk-creak of the crutch-clunk as Bro moved around in the bedroom above him. Bro and David had shared the room above just the same way as Dave and Dirk shared this one for as long as he could remember since they were itty bitty kids. The house had three bedrooms, and their parents stayed in the last one.

But the crutches had taken some getting used too, instead of his brother’s heavy thumping steps from the past sixteen years of Dave’s life. He could hear them coming down the steps, unassisted. He even heard them falter a few times. The creaking of the weight on wood got louder as Bro passed his door, and got quieter again as he went to the kitchen.

Dave rolled over, looking past the little isle way between the beds in the room, over Dirk’s blanketed shoulder and searched the window shade for slivers of light, however faint. There were none. With no clock in the room, Dave had no idea what time it was.

On the other side of the wall at his head, something clunked, and then the unmistakable sound of the metal coffee can being dropped on the ground. He didn’t miss Bro swear, a hissed out “shit” as it hit the ground. Dave only lay there for a moment longer, reasoning that if he got up, his mother would have all sorts of questions for him about why he wasn’t already working on his chores when she got up, but Bro also wasn’t going to be able to clean that up on his own. His bed creaked as he sat up.

Ever since Bro had returned home, he was different. Hed left on a misty May morning a year ago, going to someplace called Normandy, France. He’d been drafted when David didn’t have to go because David was born blind in one eye, but Bro said he didn’t want him over there with a gun anyway. Bro was the oldest out of all of them, he said. It was fitting he go, he said. He’d returned only a week ago, and not only did he look different, but he acted differently. When Dave walked out into the kitchen, he sucked in a breath to prepare himself for the sight in front of him. It never got any easier.

Bro’s hair used to be a vibrant gold, and it shone healthily in the sun no matter how many days he’d gone without a wash. His eyes had been bright too. The skin on his face hadn’t been burned, he didn’t have a bandage over his left bicep to cover stitches, and his leg on that side certainly hadn’t been broken in four places when he left either. He was starring at the spilled coffee grounds on the floor when Dave entered the kitchen, a white knuckle grip on his crutches.

“Do you want me to make you coffee,” Dave offered quietly. The clock on the wall read four-thirty, and no one else would be up until at least six when their dad had to get up for work.

Bro took a sharp breath and held it before he answered as if he had to bite back something foul. “Yes.”

There was a standoff then, but only for a moment. It took a lot of Bro’s pride to step back, Dave realized. He never could accept there were things he couldn’t do. Dave’s eyes were on him as he bent down, but once he was in his knees, his attention turned to the coffee grounds. The mess wasn’t too bad. There was still plenty in the can too, and Dave was careful not to spill any more of it as he set it up on the counter. He’d need a dustpan, but that could wait.

The Kwik maker was on the stove shortly. Dave had made afternoon coffee for his mother so many times it was muscle memory. It wasn’t the fanciest pot, in fact, it was about eight years old, but it got the job done. The time between the grounds going in and the coffee actually being ready was spent in silence. No tick of a clock, no creak of the crutches. Dave pulled a pair of his mother’s white mugs down out of the cupboard and poured them each some. With both hands on the mug handles, Dave knew the logical next step was to turn around and hand Bro his, but he couldn’t make himself. He knew the sour expression his brother would have on his face, knew he wouldn’t even say thank you and go sulk in another room.

This might have been the longest time anyone had spent time in Bro’s company since he’d come home.

“Do you want milk?” Dave mumbled.

“When have I ever drank milk in my coffee?” Bro countered.

“I dunno,” Dave replied. “I thought it might have changed.”

“It hasn’t,” he spat sourly. And then, like he regretted those words, Bro sighed. “It’s still the same.”

Dave turned, ready to give Bro his cup and turn tail. Go back to his room and try to fall asleep. But Bro didn’t have that hard look that seemed to be stuck on his face anymore. Instead, along with slumped shoulders and heavy eyelids, Bro just looked tired.

“Here,” Dave said, holding the mug out in his direction. Instead of taking it, Bro said something with a kindness in his voice Dave hadn’t heard since Bro bid him goodbye in the fine rain on a too early Saturday he never wanted to come.

“Come out on the back porch with me.”

“Okay,” Dave answered without a second thought.

Dave could walk faster than Bro, so even though the coffee cups were his responsibility he still had to get the back door. The patio set was metal, one Mom got on sale out of the Sears catalog before Pearl Harbor and made her own cushions for. There was a table, two chairs, and a bench, which meant somebody always had to get a chair out of the kitchen if they wanted to sit outside as a family.

But right now it was just the two of them, and the table was just low enough for Bro to be able to prop his broken leg up on it. Dave moved the crutches out of the way for him, moving the coffee cup in instead, and Bro took it gladly.

The spot on Bro’s right, away from his wounded side was free, and Dave knew that spot was meant for him. He didn’t sit too close, kept their hips from touching and their elbows from knocking, but it was still close to his big brother and it was still comfortable to be there.

The sky was beginning to lighten, a dark navy instead of a pitch black, but the sunrise was still a long ways off. The stars were visible with the sky being so clear, twinkling in and out of sight. Their suburban neighborhood was silent, not even a car driving by, no dogs out to bark. Silent until Bro decided his drink was cool enough and took a long slurping swig.

“Shit this is good,” he said, staring down into the dark brew. “Shit tastes like mud in- in camp.”

Dave didn’t know what to say. That was alright because it didn’t seem Bro was done.

“I’m glad I can actually sit down and drink this for once. And I’m glad I can bathe if I get dirty. Fuck, even if I do gotta hold my leg out of the tub, I have never been so glad for hot water.”

“They didn’t have showers?” Dave asked, looking up to his face even though Bro wouldn't look back at him.

“There wasn’t time, people were too busy shooting at you,” Bro frowned. “The object was to get to Paris as fast as we could, but obviously they didn’t want that to happen. There wasn’t even hardly time to sleep.”

Bile rose in Dave’s throat just thinking about it. That look was returning to Bro’s face, the one of disgusted displeasure. Dave had to look away.

“I don’t mean to run my mouth.” A heavy arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him closer to Bro, tucking Dave’s smaller form into his side. “You don’t wanna hear about what I’ve been up to. Tell me about what you been up to.”

“ I um. I haven’t been up to a lot. Dirk and I started working up at the dime store,” Dave answered truthfully.

“Yeah? What do you do with your dimes from the dime store?”

Dave shrugged. “I bought a radio. We go up to the soda shop sometimes but I think Dirk’d rather read.”

“He still like those science fiction books?”

“He loves them,” Dave agreed. Bro laughed.

Dave’s ears felt like they were ringing. He’d been so hard and sour, and now he was laughing? It wasn’t the same light-hearted sound as it had been three years ago, but a deep, throaty chuckle was just as good. Dave wanted to press closer to him, feel the vibration, but he refrained.

“I thought so,” Bro replied. “You two grew like weeds. You were barely five foot when I left and you’re looking like you’re gonna be as tall as me now. Defiantly taller than Dad.”

“I’m not as big as you though,” Dave disagreed.

“Ain’t about being big, it’s how you throw your weight around,” Bro smirked as he did just that, using his barrel of a chest to knock into Dave. The pressure was good, even if Dave almost spilled his coffee.

It hadn’t seemed like they’d been out on the porch for an hour, but sure enough, the sun began to rise. A tiny sliver of sun peeked over the trees on the back of the lot, turning the darkness grey until it began to bleed into color. Beams illuminated the treetops, casting out over the grass, over their back fence, up the porch steps, over their laps. When Dave looked back at his brother, his dull blonde hair was bleached out by the harsh lighting. Steam rose off his coffee as he put it to his lips, French dirt still under his chipped fingernails.

This was so placid. So calm and. And. Serene might have been the best word.

Bro’s arm stayed a constant weight on his shoulders, comforting and warm. Dave found himself wondering if Bro felt the same. If he felt just as safe, as Dave did, felt the same heat in his chest.

Dave missed him, so much.

“I missed you too, Dave,” Bro murmured.

Dave hadn’t even realized he’d said that out loud. A blush rose to his cheeks and he tried to cover it with a sip from his mug.

Bro pulled him closer just as soon as Dave set his empty mug down. Pulled Dave’s chest so it was angled toward his own and the only comfortable option was to wrap his arms around his brother. He wanted a hug, Dave realized as his wrist landed on Bro’s ribcage, forcing a yelp of pain out of him.

“I’m sorry,” Dave rushed to say, but Bro wouldn't let him pull away to look at it.

“Don’t be, s’its just a bruise,” Bro assured him, bringing a hand to smooth down the column of Dave’s spine. His fingers traced each disk like they were searching for something, slow, meaningful touches that forced Dave’s heart into his throat. He’d always been affectionate, but this was different. Different because Bro was a different person now, changed by what he saw, and what he didn’t. What he heard. Affectionate touches, but Dave couldn’t understand what they meant.

Bro pressed a kiss to the hair on his temple, and then lower, on his skin. His chest was so firm, his pulse rapid, Dave could feel it. Why was his heart beating so fast? Dave didn’t understand. Didn’t understand where the kisses had come from, were the-

Something wet fell on to the skin of Dave’s neck.

“I missed you,” Bro’s voice was wet when he spoke, but not shaken. He sniffed, loud and ugly, but no more tears came after that. “And I keep havin' all these bad dreams.”

“I missed you too,” Dave returned. “You’re home safe with us. We love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

  
Four days later was Sunday. Dave’s mother woke him up early for church, coming into his room to shake him awake. Dirk was up before she even spoke being a light sleeper, but Dave took more prompting. He was groggy still when he drug himself out of bed, but his mother had eggs in a pan and she was toasting bread. Eating would perk him up just a little, but Dirk was gracious enough to bring him coffee with his meal to help buzz him awake. Dave ate with his head resting on one hand, surprised no one yelled at him about his elbows on the table.

After breakfast, Dave was expected to brush his teeth, comb his hair and get dressed in whichever shirt his mom had hung on his door. Dirk’s outfit was exactly the same, identical twins in identical outfits down to the way they wore their hair. They’d have to leave soon to make it in time. They had a big family, they needed to get there early to all sit together.

Their father had a rag and a bottle of shoe polish on his lap when Dave went looking for his church shoes. There were only three pair of men’s shoes in front of him, however. His own, David’s brown ones he’d gotten for his last birthday, and a black pair that was the size he shared with Dirk.

Something about this was odd. The shoes, to begin with, but also his father’s posture. He was sitting up, very straight and very ridged, a cigarette pinned between his lips with smoke rolling off it to the ceiling. His dad smoked a lot but never looking like that. Where was his mother?

“Dave,” his father spoke. Dave knew that tone, from the times he had gotten in trouble at school, the time he broke a vase and got the belt, and both times a grandparent had passed away. This was a serious tone. Dave would have to listen and do as he said.

“Yes, sir?”

“You aren’t going to church today. You’re going to stay at home with your brother. Your mother is going to make a big fuss about it when she comes back in, but you have to insist that you’re staying. Do you understand me?” His father said, telling the cigarette from between his lips to flick ash in the glass tray.

“Yes sir,” Dave answered him. “Am I allowed to ask why?”

“Because your brother isn’t going to church. I can’t make him and neither can David,” his father answered. “And I don’t want him here by himself. I don’t- it’s not a good idea I don’t think.”

The door opened right then and his mother walked through it, holding an unopened jar of shoe polish in her right hand.

“Oh, you found it,” she said with a huff. “Was it under the sink like I told you it was?”

“Yes,” his father answered her. “Right where you told me it was.”

“Mm, I thought so,” she nodded, setting the bottle down. “Dave, why don’t you have your shoes on? It’s almost time to go. Go get them, come on.”

“Do as she says, Dave. Before the polish dries out,” his father eyed him as he spoke. Dave stared at him for a moment, trying to decode his words. Hadn’t he just said he wasn’t going? What did he really want from him?

The clunk-creak of the crutches was Dave’s saving grace. He didn’t have to decide, because Bro entered the room. He was still in his pajamas, a short sleeved sleep shirt and the only pair of pajama pants that fit over his cast because Mom had cut the left pant leg in half and sewn buttons on it because he couldn’t get his leg though. His hair was flat on one side from his pillow, the sleep hadn’t been cleaned from his eyes.

He watched his mother’s expression twist.

Dave knew that look.

“Derrick, what do you think you’re doing?” His mother asked, astonished. She was using his real name, this was going south very fast.

“You made eggs, yeah?” Bro cocked an eyebrow. “I’m gonna get myself breakfast.”

“Derrick we're going to be late for church. You aren’t even dressed yet, you- no, we're going to be late. Go, Derrick,” his mother said, distress already worked into her tone.

“I ain’t going to church, Ma,” Bro defied.

“Yes you are, go upstairs and tell David to help you get your dress pants on,” his mother scowled, her voice already raising.

“I said I ain’t going to church, Ma,” Bro repeated, more forceful.

“Yes, you are!” Their mother shouted. “You are going to church. You are. You are going. Go get dressed Derrick.”

Bro didn’t say anything back. He shifted his weight on his crutches, and just as Dave thought for sure he was going to turn around and give in, Bro went to the kitchen cabinet next to the stove and got himself a plate.

“What are you doing?” She demanded, frozen in place, watching him.

“I’m getting some goddamn eggs, stop screaming at me,” Bro spat, but he didn’t even bother to look up at her. He balanced on one leg, one hip and both crutches leaning on the countertop. He didn’t even stop what he was doing.

“Derrick, I am your mother! You do as I say!” Their mother was very quickly growing frantic. She turned to their father with a look of something like horror. “Henry, you have to do something.”

Dave watched his father take the burnt cigarette from his lips and rubbed it out in the ashtray. He was still snuffing out cinders long after he needed too, several more tense seconds with bated breath.

“Dawn, I can’t,” he said. And that was all he said.

Like a coward, Dave didn’t make eye contact.

Dave watched his mother’s face contort. She seemed insulted, dejected, and broken-hearted, all rolled into one ugly expression with a crinkled nose. Dave had never seen his mother look that way. And he’d only ever seen her fist her good dress like that was at a funeral.

“Fine,” she said finally. “Dave, go get your brothers. We’re leaving.”

“Mom, um,” Dave mumbled. He couldn’t look at her. He knew if he did his resolve would crumble. All he had to do is say what his father told him to. “I’m going to stay with Bro.”

“Dave, why?” She asked him, just like it was the end of the world. “I just wanted for us as a family to-“

“Ma!” Bro shouted, so loud it was more like a roar. “Walk out the damn door and go to church. Leave everybody the hell alone!”

The entire house fell silent then. Even David and Dirk’s footsteps in the other room stopped. It was like they all just existed at that moment, frozen in time. Bro did not look guilty. His mother didn’t look any less sad. Dave wasn’t sure how to feel.

“I think that’s enough,” their father said finally. He was up in a moment, shouting “boys!” Though the house, and as Dirk and David appeared he ushered them all out the door. The knob hit the jam with a click.

Bro set the spatula down on the counter, his breakfast loaded on to his plate. He leaned, using his opposite hand to steady himself, and used his other to open the refrigerator door and grab the ketchup out. He went on just like nothing had happened. Only when it came time to carry his plate did Bro say anything.

“Would you carry this to the table for me?”

“Yeah,” Dave agreed like they hadn’t just gotten into an argument. This might have been the first time anyone had argued with their father and not gotten his belt. They’d all been taught not to talk back that way since he was a child. Bro made his way to the table slow, and Dave sat his foot down in front of him.

“Would you get me a fork? And a cup of coffee?” Bro asked just as soon as he stepped away. Wordlessly, Dave did as he was asked, grabbing the fork first and ferrying it to the table before he went for the coffee. Strong, bitter black coffee filled the mug, and Dave set it down steaming next to Bro.

“Thanks,” he said around a shovel-sized bite.

“Welcome,” Dave returned. Dave’s own seat at the table was next to Bro’s, empty and waiting for him. He only thought about it for a second, pulling his chair out from its previous pushed in position. They’d sat together their entire lives, just like this at the dinner table. Every Christmas, every Thanksgiving, every night when they sat down to supper. It felt right to have Bro back to occupy that spot. The spot he’d been missing from.

Even after all the stress of the morning, Dave still felt right sitting next to him.

“You wanna know why I stayed home?” Bro prompted. Dave had kind of been alright not knowing, he guessed, but now the temptation was there. He thought it might feel dirty, though, knowing why he felt the need to scream at their mother. Why he made her cry. He nodded anyway.

“Cause I’m done doing what people tell me,” Bro said like it was so simple.

“What?”

“Take out the trash, Derrick. Don’t muss your clothes, Derrick,” he mocked their mother. “Go stand under that brick wall and shoot anyone that tries to come over it, Derrick. Get up and go to church. I don’t think so.”

He took a long, long noisy sip of his coffee.

“You know, if she thinks I’m gonna come home and play happy family like nothing ever happened, she’s got another thing coming.”

“You couldn’t have just done it to make her happy?” Dave asked, innocuously.

Bro gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “I guess. But where would that have gotten me? What’d you stay home for anyway?”

Dave thought about lying to him. In the end, he didn’t. “Dad told me too.”

Dave wished he would have lied after the face Bro made. Knowing didn’t make him feel dirty though.

“He thinks I’m up to something,” Bro scowled. “What can I get up to with a broken leg? Honestly.”

“You hear about the one-legged man in the ass-kicking contest?” Dave cracked a smile finally. Bro did too, much to his delight.

“You’re my favorite brother, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do,” Dave grin broke wider.

“Good. Cause it’s true,” Bro punctuated his sentence with another sip of coffee. Even as fast as Bro was eating, it’d still take him a while to get through all of that food. They had a ton of time to enjoy each others company after that too. Their family wouldn't make it home from church until nearly noon. Plenty of time really. Bro’s good leg came to touch his under the table. On purpose or not, Dave wasn’t sure, it didn’t much matter. Neither brother mentioned it, and neither brother moved.

 

* * *

 

  
The doctor said six weeks for the cast. Bro’s bone would mend itself, the metal plates and screws in it would hold it in position to heal in all four injured places, stronger than ever. Dirk teased him about it, about how he was like a character in his books, a man that was half metal. Bro laughed, Mom had not. Dave watched his father reach out and hold her hand across the space between their chair’s in the front room, and he watched her squeeze it.

Dave had read that book. It was about a man made of metal, sure, that was the basic premise. But it was deeper than that too. Not unlike the draft, he’d been conned into going to war too. Made of metal to bounce off the bullets. That was what got Dave thinking about the war.

Bro hated it when people asked him about it. He got so angry so fast, he snapped at anyone who so much even mentioned France or supporting the troops. When their father had asked the first time what it was like, Bro was in his room, very tired, very sore with tear tracks stained on to his cheeks. Dave had been in the bathroom next door, supposed to be brushing his teeth. Bro hadn’t said much, his bed creaked as he turned over, and shortly after their father left the room.

David was next to ask, at the dinner table no less, just a few days after the church incident and Bro had screamed at him. Told him to join the army if he wanted to know so bad. David left the table because Bro wasn’t able.

Dave had made up his mind he wouldn't ask. No matter how many times he thought about it, thought about asking how many people he’d killed, how many miles he’d walked, the people he’d meet. No matter how many times it was just he and Dave on the back porch staring in silence at the sky. Dave had a duty to be respectful. He was the favorite brother after all.

As the favorite brother, Dave felt it was his job to make sure Bro had company. Saturday nights usually meant a night out for him and his brother’s. He and the guys would usually go horse around somewhere, but he’d made up his mind to stay home. Dirk had already gone to somebody’s house for a meeting of their science club, David had a date, and their father had taken their mother out to get her mind off things.

Once they were all out the door, Bro seemed to come out of hiding. He limped down out of the upstairs with an almost cheerful expression.

“They gone?” He asked, his crutches creaking. Dave was so used to that sound. He was going to miss it.

“Yeah, all gone for the night,” Dave agreed, looking up from his magazine on the couch.

“Let’s turn on the fight then,” Bro suggested, and he made his way over to the family radio. The Striders has always had a radio since Dave was a kid probably, but this one was new. All polished wood with crisp knobs. Their old one had died just before Christmas and their father had gotten it as a family Christmas gift. The boys were not allowed to play with it when their parents weren’t home. Maybe Bro hadn’t been told that.

“Dad said we can’t play with it when they aren’t around, he’s scared we’ll break it,” Dave explained, sitting up. “And we aren’t supposed to listen to boxing. Mom doesn’t like it.”

“Mom don’t like it when I breathe,” he countered, leaning down to read the painted on knobs. Dave frowned because that just wasn’t true. Their mother loved him.

“Besides,” Bro continued, “If we turn it off before they get home they’ll never know.”

He seemed to have found the 'on' switch because the radio sprung to life. Dave knew that song, it was the current chart-topper. Dave could listen to music all night long if his parents would let him, he wanted to live inside that radio, feel the vibrations in his skin. He’d give anything for some lessons, even on a dumb old piano. Bro kept fussing with the knobs, ending the music and turning it in and out of service and static. He found what he was looking for finally, an announcers voice coming over a crackly microphone and narrating the movements of men Dave couldn’t see. Bro adjusted the volume down, and seemingly satisfied, used his crutches to plop down next to Dave on the couch.

Dave really wasn’t listening to the fight. He didn’t care much for that sort of thing, and he didn’t know when Bro had begun. Unless he’d gone to a friends house to listen, he couldn’t remember Bro ever asking to listen to this station, or go to a match, besides getting into a couple of fist fights in high school, he’d never seemed interested in it, certainly not as an organized sport.

Dave just chalked this up to another one of Bro’s changes. Ones that stood out more prominent were his sour mood, the way he spoke to people, scars deep-rooted in his chest that only seemed to lay on the surface. This was one of the smaller changes, like his jam preferences, or his new obsession with dry, clean socks. Changes Dave had noticed but never thought about. Or maybe wasn’t supposed to think about. He was the favorite brother. He shouldn’t bring it up. Shouldn’t dwell too much on it, even in his own brain.

Bro’s elbow finally pulled him out of his head. “What’s eatin’ you?”

“Huh?” Dave said, only out of reflex, his face turning up to look at his brother. “Oh. Nothing.”

“Heavy thinker?” He asked, slinging his arm around the back of the couch. Only the left one, the side Dave was on.

He watched Bro chew his lip, something he typically only did when he was deep in thought, but he didn’t look bothered on any deep level. Not confused, or annoyed, he just looked down at Dave, maybe..maybe interested?

“Go on. Ask me,” he said. “I’m not mad. Go on, ask me whatever you want. I won’t scream at you.”

Dave’s jaw was slack. He could feel it. He thought Dave wanted to pester him about the war, ask stupid questions like David had, or want him to spill his bruised guts like their father. The problem was though, Dave didn’t have a question. He didn’t want his brother to relive something so terrible he wouldn't even talk about it. Words that translated to sounds and sights and smells.

“When did you start listening to boxing?” He asked. He’d learned, Bro hadn’t liked it last time he told the truth.

“When I was in France,” he said. “We came up from Normandy, just like I said, and after we liberated Paris the whole city celebrated. Couple of buddies of mine and me went and watched a tournament after, drank a ton.”

“Could I- uh,” Dave started, searching Bro’s face for disapproval. When he found none, he continued. “What was Paris like, when you got there?”

“Um. They were glad to see us. But we didn’t actually get surrender until like six days later. Lota’ resistance fighters too. We fought in the streets mostly.”

“Was it- uh,” Dave paused, unsure of the word. “Fun? To be there? After you liberated it.”

Bro looked up at the ceiling then, like the paint above them might have some kind of answers. The color beige had no words for him though. The scratchy, crackly announcer kept on, a bell ringing, the crowd around them roaring, but it all sounded so far away. Far away like Bro’s gaze.

“It wasn’t boring,” he said finally. “I don’t know about fun. We took down and burned a lot of Nazi flags. We were all tired and hot from fighting. And the French rebels kept saying that we didn’t liberate them, they freed themselves, but I didn’t care. I don’t speak French.”

He looked down at his hands then, his mouth open, clearly not done speaking, and Dave didn’t interrupt him.

“I just wanted to drink and sleep. I had my first kiss there, though. In the bar, we were watching the fight. Not like, Patsy Engleman kissing my cheek at senior prom either. Like a real kiss.”

“Was she pretty?” Dave asked.

Bro’s chest shook with laughter, and his head tilted back once again, all the way to the back of the couch as a smile wiped itself across his lips. Like it’d cleared away his stoic expression and put back the thing that should be there. “Wasn’t a girl.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed to be that way in the military?” Dave blurted.

“There are just as many queers in the army as there are regular guys,” Bro responded, nonchalant. “You just don’t talk about it. Same as here. Lots of people are that way, Dave. Everybody’s just afraid to talk about it.”

“I knew that,” Dave said, and he wasn’t sure if that was the truth or a lie. People just didn’t talk about this subject. There wasn’t much information, especially at sixteen when your parents wanted to keep you as ignorant to the world as they could. Let you stay a kid. But it wasn’t like he’d never heard about it. Usually being damned in church, but he had heard about it.

“Did you?”

Dave had to think about that one. Maybe he had never realized that his brother liked men, but it didn’t change anything. Bro was no different than he had before.

“Yeah,” he decided to say finally. What was that? Acceptance? Yes. And it wasn’t a lie. A truth that Bro would like for once.

Bro’s grin cracked into a half smile. That was confirmation.

“Good deal,” he replied. “Say, did you ever get with that Lalonde girl in your grade?”

The change of subject wasn’t unwelcome, they didn’t have to talk all about Bro. It was a bit of an awkward subject though, and Dave felt his face burn as it was turned right back around on him.

“Uh. No.”

“No?” Bro mocked. “Did you go to the spring dance up at the high school with her?”

“No,” Dave shook his head. “She went stag with a group of friends.”

“Oh, I get it,” Bro chuckled. “So you haven’t kissed anybody? Nobody? You, a man of fine Strider lines?”

“Bro, come on,” Dave huffed, giving him a tiny push, but Bro was solid and he didn’t budge.

“No really,” Bro insisted. “You haven’t kissed anyone?”

Dave shook his head, and as he looked up, he was just quick enough to watch Bro’s pupils dilate.

“Oh,” he said after a few seconds of silence.

“Don’t rub it in.”

The arm that was laying behind him on the couch dropped to his shoulder, Bro’s big, warm hand gripping him tight to him in a half squeeze of a hug. “We can fix that.”

“You gonna fix me up with Patsy Engleman?” Dave asked sarcastically.

“Nah. That’d take to long,” Bro’s grin was not at all telling as he paused to lick his lips. “Plant one on me.”

“What?” Dave said before he’d even processed.

“I mean it, kiss me,” Bro rephrased. “Come on. I already know how I’ll teach you or whatever. And then you can tell your buds you’ve had your first kiss. That nerdy Egbert kid is gonna be all over the details, just don’t tell him you kissed your brother.”

He was trying to frame this as a favor. Dirk did the exact same thing.

But Dave found his gaze still locked on his older brother’s lips. He had their mother’s mouth on their father’s jawline. Dave himself was all dad under the cheekbones, but Bro made the mix and match look good. His lips were a bright pinkish… reddish maybe he guessed. Much healthier than they looked when he’d gotten home. Had Dave really noticed a change in something that small?

“I don’t know where to put my hands,” he said truthfully, and Bro only smiled.

“ ‘round my neck is fine.”

It was like he knew Dave was going to be shy about it because both of his hands were moving and push pulling him where he wanted him. Dave went with the flow, letting Bro shove his elbows until they rested on his much wider shoulders, looping instinctively, like when he was a kid and a Bro used to hoist him up and carry him around. Dave was close before, but now he was even closer, able to see the beginnings of his brother’s five o clock shadow and the white highlights of his irises.

“You’re blushing,” Bro grinned, and Dave could feel his palms on his hips, pulling them flush together. Dave didn’t reply. Bro kept talking. “Don’t get too excited. Just a kiss remember?”

Dave thought for a moment that it was a bit like kissing his mother, and then suddenly it was nothing like kissing his mother. Bro’s lips were thin, but plenty warm, pressing firm and insistent against his own. It took Dave a moment to figure out that he had to kiss back, giving the gentle pressure back to him. He was staring straight ahead, his brother’s head framed by his own arms. Bro’s eyes were open before they parted ways, their lips separating with no sound.

“Were you watching me the whole time?” He snickered. “That’s so damn awkward.”

“Was I supposed to close my eyes?” Dave asked, even though he was fairly sure of the answer.

“Yes, Dipshit. And you kiss like a stone wall, you know that?”

“I thought you were supposed to be teaching me,” Dave snarked back at him. “What’s that say about your method?”

“You haven’t seen my method yet.”

This time, when Bro leaned in, Dave let his eyes close too. That seemed to make all the difference. The dark behind his lids seemed to amplify his other senses. As he inhaled, he could smell the all too floral scent of their shared laundry soap, and another, lesser smell like. Like the human body. A scent that belonged to Bro, he was sure.

He could feel the threads of Bro’s shirt under his fingers, worn and soft, warm from his body and taste- Dave hasn’t expected there to be a taste- was just vaguely sweet, like licking granulated sugar off of his finger.

This time, when Bro pulled away, Dave found himself trying to follow. A bell dinged on the radio and Dave realized he’d forgotten it was on.

“How’s that?” Bro inquired, quirking an eyebrow. Dave searched his face for something he wasn’t sure of, watching his brother’s lips shine as they moved.

“Good,” Dave replied, maybe just a little shy still, but holding on. He didn’t want Bro to let go. Not yet.

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

  
The day the cast came off should have been a happy one. Instead, Dave hadn’t even known about it. He woke up one Friday morning and Bro was already gone, their father had gone with him to drive. When he returned from his shift that afternoon Bro was back, sitting at the table with his leg bare. Finally. But instead of a cast, Bro wore a frown.

He was always frowning around people, though. He didn’t like their parents to fuss over him or people prodding his leg. Their mother was still fussing over him, though. And Bro was losing patience. Dave thought it best to leave the room, ask him how his leg was later, ask him if he could get him anything even though he could walk again. Never hurt to ask.

But instead, Bro grabbed his arm on the way by and gave him a very serious look. Deadly serious. And pressed a piece of paper into his palm. Don’t open it yet, his look conveyed, not until you leave the room.

So Dave waited until he was shut back in his bedroom, flopped across his bed as he ignored Dirk and Dirk ignored him. Even then he didn’t open it. He waited until the inevitable screaming match between his mother and his brother and only when he heard the heavy thump, thump of Bro going up the stairs on his own finally did he open the note.

It was written in messy scrawl across an old shopping list, and at first, Dave thought Bro had just written it too fast, trying to hide it, trying to keep whatever it was from prying eyes, but then he noticed the smudging if the pencil, and the date on the shopping list. This was from a few weeks ago, right uh. Right after they’d kissed. The first time.

Maybe it was important. Maybe it wasn’t? How could anyone tell, honestly? Maybe he had taken it off the fridge? Maybe he’d given it to David once before. Either way, if Bro wanted to see him he’d go. Dirk was still pretending to be an only child when Dave left, trying to be as quiet as he could as he climbed the stairs, his hand sliding up the smooth railing, and shuffled his feet once he touched the floorboards. He was trying to sneak, he didn’t want his mother to know he was up here. Why? Well, he supposed this just felt privet. Like Bro’s look had spoken volumes. This was just for them, whatever he wanted was just for them.

That was why he turned the doorknob on the bedroom door but didn’t push, just let it open on its own. The hinges were rusty and if opened past a certain point they would squeak. Dave was equally careful about shutting the door as well.

David had gone, for the time being, leaving his side of the bedroom a mess but not as big a disaster as Bro’s. Bro had this sort of nest built around him of debris, trash, dirty dishes, and clothes both dirty and clean. Bro sat right on top too, like a king on his throne. Maybe more like a raccoon on garbage night. His face had softened from the frown he had earlier, his expression flat and his gaze attracted by Dave’s entry.

Dave clutched the note. “What’d you want?”

“Can’t a guy wanna spend time with his brother?” Bro retorted.

“No,” Dave replied, deadpan. It was a joke that didn’t need explaining. Bro smirked.

“Get the fuck out.”

Dave couldn’t help but crack a smile too. He didn’t leave, he came closer, in fact, one knee resting on Bro’s mattress as he ducked down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. It was only moments, there and then gone pressure. Dave wanted more but didn’t ask for it. That door could open any second. Kisses were more common now, he’d get more if he desired.

“No, seriously Bro, what did you want?”

Bro just made a noncomitmental grunt and shrugged. “Thought we could use some alone time.”

“Oh.”

“You say that like you don’t want to?” Bro cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh! No, no, it’s not that,” Dave rushed to say. “I just. Are we gonna get caught?”

“Get caught doing what? We’re brothers, Dave,” he replied, but then silently Bro shook his head and mouthed the word ‘no.’

Bro put a finger to his lips, miming a shush motion, and then motioned him to come closer, his warm palms resting on Dave’s hips just as soon as he was close enough. Dave let his brother pull him down, down across his lap, hips over hips, chest on chest, his face nuzzled into his neck. Bro was leaning on a pile of pillows on the wall when he came in, and now his legs straddled either side of Bro, his knees by Bro’s rib cage, and he wound up cradled after Bro’s knees rose up, pushing up his thighs.

It was a good feeling, a safe feeling, an embrace filled with warmth and affection that was saved only for him. Dave felt a little guilty, but not so much to do anything about it. When Bro was ready to give affection to the rest of the family, he would, but this was all for him.

He felt Bro press a kiss to the top of his head, a bit awkwardly with the angle, and it made Dave hum out his praise for the action.

Bro laughed lightly, pressing a second kiss in a close by spot. “Like that, huh?”

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh.

Dave was excited. Or maybe that wasn’t a good enough word for it. Giddy, like a kid, a feeling in his belly that made him want to squirm in his lap and beam bright as he could. All of Bro’s attention was on _him_ , all of his focus, his touch, his time in this bed was _his_. The one person he wanted most wanted him.

A second kiss was pressed into his skin, lower, on the nape of his neck, and right then the spell was broken.

Dave pushed him away, both hands splayed on his chest, nearly tipping himself over and he put some space between himself and his brother’s frown. Oh, fuck. No. Not that, anything but that. Words caught in Dave’s throat, unsure if he should ask what he was doing or if he’d pissed him off, stuck there, his brain fighting to push either of them out but instead he simply sat there with his mouth agape, starring.

“You don’t want to?” Bro asked, but it was like his response was caught right there with the others in the bottleneck of his voice box.

“You can just say you don’t want to.”

“I do!” Dave rushed to say before he was even sure. Did he?

“It’s just- I’ve never- not even with a girl.”

“Oh,” Bro said, and that was all he said for a long time.

Is this really who he wanted to give his virginity to? Their church pastor said it was supposed to be for his wife. But would anyone know? Would his wife someday down the line be able to look at him and know he’d lost his virginity already if he lied? Did it count if it was with another man? Okay, Dave was pretty sure that counted, but did it count if it was his brother?

“You okay?”

“I don’t know if I want to get married,” Dave blurted, still on another train of thought and he didn’t realize what he’d said until it was out. His face reddened.

“Okay?” Bro responded, questioning.

Dave could feel his fingers on his hips still like they were burning there. They didn’t move, didn’t grip tighter to hold him there. Dave could leave whenever he wanted. He didn’t move either.

“Are you disappointed?” Dave asked, and then rephrased. “Would you be disappointed?”

“No, of course not. I’d never be disappointed in you. Surprised, sometimes but uh. Never disappointed.”

Dave released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Can we stop?”

Bro nodded. “Of course, we could just talk if-“

“No. I mean. Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off. But I mean uh, can we stop if uh, I don’t like it? I feel kind of uh. Dirty. Right now. Cause you aren’t my wife.”

Something clicked on Bro’s face.

“Oh Jesus,” he said, almost relieved. “That’s all? Of course, we can stop if you don’t like it, but somebody doesn’t have to be your wife to make you feel good. You make me feel good all the time.”

“I do?”

“Yup. Like when my leg was broke and you did all that stuff to help me,” Bro said, his grin returning, his thumb moving to trace over the curve of Dave’s hip. “I like it when you come sit by me, so I don’t get lost in my head. Little stuff you do makes me feel so good. I could return the favor.”

So he.. oh sakes alive that was so much easier to think about it that way. They were just brothers. Doing something nice for their brother. That was all. Even if it was a lie. This was wrong and dirty and a sin, unnatural and out of order, but he didn’t _care_. The veil was _so_ thin but Dave choose not to see through it.

Dave was already sitting upright so it was easy for Bro to lean him back, back until he was flat on the bed. Bro’s broad hand came up his hips, over his clothed chest and down his arms, just touching, rubbing, feeling him all over. It had Dave mewling for another kiss, trying to lean up only to be pushed back by the force of Bro’s lips.

“You gotta be quiet,” Bro reminded his hands on their way back over Dave’s chest, back over his hips, and more to the center. More to where he was getting hard from all this touching.

He was tipping back before long as Bro had planned but Dave was too inexperienced to understand the subtle hint, and then suddenly their positions were flipped, Bro was on top of him, his mouth so inviting and his hands making Dave tremble under them. Each time Bro’s hand ghosted up his thigh it made Dave’s dick throb, excited for the prospect Bro had promised him. And then all of a sudden it was all gone, and Bro was getting up off the bed and settling to his knees.

“You’re lucky the shrapnel missed my knee,” he whispered, grinning.

Dave didn’t understand for a moment, and then he did.

“Oh,” he murmured, heat rising to his face.

“Bite the pillow if you need to, just stay quiet.”

That was all the reminder Dave needed, shifting his hips and sitting up. Bro waited until they were facing each other and Dave was settled to actually move through, carefully picking his buttons loose, and shoving the part of his pants out of the way.

“I wish we could risk getting naked,” Bro hushed, looking up at him. “Think you can settle for this?”

Dave nodded frantically, his chest suddenly feeling very very tight, tighter than his underthings Bro was pushing out of the way as well.

A second later a wet warmth was wrapped around the crown of his cock. All at once all the air left him and he could barely breathe. Desperate to regain what he lost, he sucked in a harsh gasp following a tentative lick to his slit, the bitter taste of pre probably flooding Bro’s taste buds. Dave watched in near awe as Bro’s lips curled, and then he felt the suction, pressure drawing him in as Bro sank down. It was amazing, watching him take more and more with little swallows, his throat contracting as he took him deeper still until his nose was buried in the tight curls at the base. His brother had taken him all the way to the root without so much as a gag, and Dave was struggling to keep his lips sealed.

He did grab the pillow as Bro started his way back up, dragging his tongue along the sensitive underside. As much as he wanted to watch his big brothers blonde head bob between his knees, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Dave moaned into the soft down, loud as he wanted but muffled low enough it didn’t matter.

His hips rocked up each time Bro sank down, the wet slide of his mouth overheated flesh, the thought of the first contact, the anchor that was Bro’s hands on him, keeping him from floating away on the cloud he felt like he was on. The pleasure was nearly dizzying. A constant onslaught of back and forth, there and gone, here and back, like the best seesaw Dave never wanted to get off.

He had built fast. Like a testament to his virginal status, without even knowing he was going to. One moment his brows were drawn, face pressed into the pillow, thighs shaking, and then the coil under his belly broke with a sound nearly strangled out of him. His balls drew up tight and he shot off with a hard throb, filling his brother's mouth with a muffled groan. He expected Bro to be mad for not warning him, but when Dave moved the pillow Bro looked anything but mad. He might have even laughed? A little? As he stood up and went to the window, opening it and popping the screen to spit into moms flowerbed below.

“Shot off there kinda quick, Tex,” Bro said, breaking the silence, though he had to clear his throat before he began.

“I’m sorry,” Dave muttered, looking up at him, and then looking down again as Bro tucked him away and fixed what he’d undone. “I can make it up to you. I can, uh, do it to you too?“

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Don’t think we have that kinda time, you’ve been up here a while,” he shrugged. “ ‘sides, I got a hand.”

That was something else their pastor had said not to do. You weren’t supposed to touch yourself like that, it was immoral and wrong. But, wait, hold on, his brother had just… Dave’s stomach dropped out from under him. They’d just done something worse.

“What’s that face for?”

“I don’t think we should have done that,” Dave mumbled, his gaze cast down at his suddenly very interesting socks.

“Nobody’s gonna know. And we don’t have to do it again.”

“God will know.”

That made Bro laugh for real, and Dave felt a hand turning his chin up to look him in the eye. He thought for sure Bro was going to lecture him, chew him out for sounding like a little kid, but he didn’t, he kissed him instead and Dave shied away because it still tasted like him.

“Come on, let's go test this leg out, huh? Let’s walk up to the drug store, I got money for soda and those cinnamon candies you like.”

 

* * *

 

  
Christmas and New Year’s Eve passed in quick succession. With the war rations, Dave knew their parents didn’t have a ton of money, so it wasn’t particularly spectacular but it was memorable because the family was together again. It was a cool night in January, the sixth actually, a Saturday, when President Roosevelt delivered his state of the union on the radio and promised that peace was coming to the world at war. The outlook for the year seemed bright.

Bro too seemed brighter. After his cast had come off and the surface wounds had healed, he seemed more vibrant. The color came back to his hair. It shone on cold mornings when they snuck out to the back porch to be alone, highlighted like spun gold in the early rays. All his childhood Dave had wanted snow in Texas, but after that winter he never wished for snow again.

In the months following, President Roosevelt’s promise came true. Dave wouldn't see the images until that fall when the ban on civilian broadcasting equipment was lifted and televisions became affordable, but he heard about it all on the radio. The liberation of Auschwitz, Hungry declaring war on Germany and Ecuador doing the same to Japan. Victory after hard-won victory. The war would end this year people said.

What Dave did not suppose he’d seen ending was his time with Bro. He came home from school one day to find a strange car backed up to the house, and Bro loading boxes into the back. A friend of his was going back in for another load. Dave’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he felt like vomiting. It was pretty clear what was going on here.

“Bro?” He called, breaking into a fast jog to close the distance between them.

Bro looked up and almost immediately grimaced. “Hi, Dave.”

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Dave blurted, his cool lost.

“Hey, hey, relax,” his brother was going to try to play it off, he knew that tone. “I’m not skipping town. Listen, Dave-“

“Derek!” Bro’s friend shouted, cutting him off. “Last box!”

Dave’s chest was throbbing, panic beginning to set in. Last box? He was leaving? Now?? Bro watched Dave’s face change and now he understood why Dave had been so afraid of all of his own expressions.

“Jake, I gotta talk to Dave a moment,” Bro responded to his friend and pulled Dave by his sleeve along with him. They went around the side of the house, though the back gate, and up on the porch, on to that same sears set they’d started on. This wasn’t fair. Dave didn’t even wait until they were sitting. Couldn’t.

“You’re just going to go? Move out? You weren’t even going to say anything to me?!”

“What did you want me to say?” Bro shouted right back. “That I can’t stand this house or most of the people in it? And what would you have said? Deal with it?”

“No! Of course not!” Of course, he would have. Even if it was incredibly selfish.

“I was going to wait to say goodbye!” Bro exclaimed, his tone calm, bringing it down so their parents wouldn’t hear, and Dave’s did too.

“Liar.”

“Yes, I was too!” Bro scowled, and Dave wasn’t afraid of it anymore. Bro paced the porch, along one long, stained wood board. He made it to the edge and stopped, looking like he wanted to jump, as if two foot made a difference.

“Hear me out,” he started, his voice lower. “Dave, I saw a lot of shit over there. And I don’t want to talk about any of it. But I can’t keep up with the stress of mom, and dad, and David all on my ass while trying to hide this thing I’m doing with you, all while trying to deal with all that went on.”

“So you’re just going to leave? Just like you criticized people for not saying they’re queer, just don’t talk about it? You just aren’t going to talk about it?”

“Yeah, yeah I am,” Bro said defiantly. “I’m a long way from talking about this. And until then I want quiet.”

Betrayal made its home in Dave’s gut, right next to his heart. Plenty of room for the sadness he couldn’t help but feel invade his empty chest. He could feel it throb under his ribs. Dave couldn’t look at him anymore.

“It’s not that you aren’t good enough to keep me here. And it’s not that I don’t love you, cause I do. So much.”

He could hear Bro’s footsteps cross the porch, and thick fingers tilt his chin up. Lips were on his before he could blink, a crushing kiss that was all too bold in front of a door with windows. His brother's mouth was warm and familiar, and it made the ache pulsate deep down low. When Bro pulled away, Dave chased after his lips.

“I’m not going to skip town,” Bro promised, and though he had said it before this was the first time Dave had heard it. “In fact, I can see the dime store from the apartment.”

That made Dave feel better, in the same way, pouring alcohol did on a skinned knee.

“I’m gonna live with Jake but he’s about as sharp as a cotton swab. I’ll have my own room. I’m not saying we have to stop.”

Dave couldn’t speak, but his lip quivered as he nodded.

“I love you. I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too.”

Bro didn’t linger. He was choking up too. Dave watched him almost run down the steps, around the house, and heard the gate shut. The car engine started, tires crackling on the gravel. The engine eventually got quieter and quieter until Dave couldn’t hear it anymore.

He stood there for a while longer, the spell of early mornings and starlight skies on this overhang was long gone. That last time really was the last. Last pot of coffee made, last space shared in this house. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t final, not really, Bro would still be there. And Jake might get some getting used to, but he was always nice in the past.

He opened the back door, letting himself into the house but he was not alone. The door opened to the living room, and his mother was in her chair, face in her hands sobbing. Dirk and David wouldn't be home until later, and their father was still at work. It was just her and him.

“It’s gonna be okay, mama,” Dave said, but his voice didn’t sound as reassuring as his words.

“I know this was- because of me- it was my-“ she hiccuped, “but you?”

When she looked up at him, bleary eyes and red tracked cheeks from tears, he knew then that she had seen. That she knew. She’d probably started crying when Bro first started carrying boxes, and now she was sobbing because she had seen her oldest son kiss her youngest in a way brothers shouldn't. Choose to kiss him on the mouth instead of hug her goodbye.

“Why?” she choked, and he was barely able to understand her, waiting moments for his brain to catch up with a response.

In the end, he didn’t say anything, he just went to her side, sitting on the arm of her chair like she’d scolded him for a million times, and wrapped his arms tight around her. Dave didn’t have to ask how she felt, because he knew. And when his father came home, his mother never said a word.


End file.
